


a familiar ghost

by cryptibs



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Sleepy Boys Inc., Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Dream Smp, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Oneshot, btw any characters besides from tommy n tubbo are just mentioned, i wrote this in like three hours bc a discord server gave me a very good idea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:54:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28123410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptibs/pseuds/cryptibs
Summary: tubbo find's tommy's tower and assumes he dies, has a duel with dream after he learns what he did, dies during the duel, tommy visits l'manburg to find tubbo and become friends w him, then only finds his ghost (which doesn't remember him bc his memories are badly associated with tommy)warnings: blood, cursing, character death, just some Big Angsthooo boy this was fun to write :]] pain is so much fun to makegot inspo while talkin to some new friends! was v fun to make them cry w the concept story :D
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 6
Kudos: 70





	a familiar ghost

His best friend was dead.

Fall damage. From a dirt tower that practically scraped the clouds. 

Tommy died. Alone and sad. 

Because of him.

He exiled him. Tubbo exiled him.

Tommy trusted him, and Tubbo had kicked him out from his own nation.

The horns on Tubbo’s head weighed heavy now. A reminder of who he resembled.

Anger filled his heart when he learned of what Dream had done. Mocking phrases and laughter that drilled into his ears, the sarcastic banter and loud cheerfulness reminded him too much of his old friend. 

A duel at dawn, he proposed. A duel to finally put his worries to an end.

The child president died with an arrow in his shattered heart, and eyes staring at the rising sun. 

He remembered the bench, when he would sit peacefully beside his best friend, listening to soothing music as the sun rose and set in beautiful blood red colors.

The blood staining his suit was far too similar to those memories. 

He never got a chance to say goodbye. 

\-----------------------

The cold was never a welcome feeling to Tommy, always bringing a lonely feeling of tiredness. 

Snow crunched under his heels as he trudged over to the rocking wooden boat.

Anticipation and excitement spurred him on though, making him ignore the nagging feeling of something being.. off.

It was probably the butterflies in his stomach, after all, he was finally going to see his best friend again! 

Sure, Tubbo may have exiled him, but he had forgave him long ago, the shouted hate towards the president had always been faulty, purposefully always having some reasonable sort of argument against it. 

He missed him a lot, in truth. 

It was lonely in Logstedshire, even with Wilbur around, and it was still lonely while he stayed with Techno and Ranboo, neither of their presences were exactly welcoming to him.

The disks sounded a lot more hollow whenever he listened to them, echoing off of the stone walls in his room. 

But now he was finally going to see him! His best friend! His Tubbo!

\--------------------------------------

L’manburg was unusually silent. 

It was strange, usually when Tommy was around, he would hear at least the laughter of Fundy and Niki, or the outraged yells of Quackity from when he’d get pranked by somebody. 

It was so quiet now, only the faint sound of animals in the distance being heard.

A cold presence behind Tommy made him freeze, then relax, remembering that Wilbur had promised to meet him at L’manburg when he’d arrive.

He had expected a cheerful “Hello!” though, but maybe he was just waiting for Tommy to turn around.

Spinning around quickly, a grin wide on his face, and a snarky one liner ready to mock the spirit, Tommy came face to face with somebody he hadn’t expected to see so soon.

Tubbo stood there, face paler and eyebags darker than what he remembered. 

Tommy’s grin died down, then forced back on. Tommy took a hesitant step back. 

Tubbo still stayed there, staring unblinkingly at Tommy. 

“Uh.. big man? Big T? You alright mate?”

He didn’t move, didn’t show any sign he had heard Tommy’s voice.

“Look big man, I understand you might be upset I’m back here, but listen! I’m a changed man! I’m all grown up n’ shit!”

Still no response, Tommy awkwardly shifted on his heels.

“Well, if you’re not going to talk, can I at least just hug you? I’ve.. missed you a lot.”

Silence. Wind rustled the bushes beside the spruce platform. 

Tommy sighed, then stepped forward, Tubbo’s head moved with him, wide eyes still locked onto his face. 

He brought a hand up to rest on his best friend’s shoulder, planning to try and shake him out of his stupor. 

What he didn’t expect, was for his hand to phase straight through Tubbo’s shoulder, sending a hazy ripple throughout the entire boy’s body. 

Tommy stumbled back, tripping over his own badly tied boot laces. 

He stared up at the now slightly hovering form of his best friend, an emotion similar to fear clouding his mind.

The arrow that stuck out of his chest brought back old memories, a duel that took his first life.

Dark red stained the front of the figure’s chest, mostly clotted in areas around the arrow wound, but also dripping down the corners of his mouth, drawing thin lines of pink down to the specter’s chin, reminding Tommy of a marionette puppet’s face. 

Hollow eyes peered down at him, pastel skin thinly showing cheekbones underneath. 

The kind spark that once occupied those brown eyes was gone, replaced by a shadow of loneliness and pain hidden within their depths. 

Tommy’s hands trembled from where they propped him up from the wooden planks, fear and shock causing tears to trail down his face. 

“T-Tubbo?” His shaky voice echoed around the empty nation, bringing more tears with it. 

The floating boy tilted his head curiously, still no emotion on his pale face. 

A voice with a lilt not unlike his own spoke quietly, sounding more like a brush of wing rather than words.

“Who are you?”


End file.
